


Make me sin.

by sjakalen



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), youtube - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bible verses, Christ, Christian Character, Christianity, Filthy, God - Freeform, Happy Ending, Jesus - Freeform, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phan Angst, Phan Fluff, Phan Smut, Phandom - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Priest, Psychological Drama, Seduction, Self-Hatred, Smut, altar smut, baptist church, being gay in religion, church, dan is v sad all the time, demon, demon/pastor, demon/priest - Freeform, ethic drama, fanatic belief, homophobes, homophobic slur, in denial about sexuality, pastor, phil makes him sin, phil saves dan, sin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 10:45:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8664640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sjakalen/pseuds/sjakalen
Summary: He loosens his clerical collar with slow yet determined hands, making an impure show for both the demon’s and His enjoyment. Phil just watches, fingertips working on undoing his now tight trousers. Dan lets the collar drop to the ground, the sound of misdeed shortly filling the room making them both breathless. ‘’Make me sin,’’ Dan begs. He doesn’t have to do so more than once.// In which Dan is the town's new pastor, and Phil is sheer trouble.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Things you should know before reading this fic:  
> 1\. God is referred to as He, Him and God.  
> 2\. This fic is a bit supernatural, but it isn’t overdone – there’s no flying witches, orcs or shit like that – just a slightly demonized Phil (he doesn’t have a tail or any horns, don’t worry lmao).  
> 3\. My intention is in no way to bash Christianity as we know it – this fic is simply portraying a community practicing a very strict, fanatic and hateful side of the belief.  
> 4\. I have no idea what a church community consists of, neither do I know much about services, pastors or anything religious related – google has provided the knowledge mentioned in this fic, so please bash on Steven Jobs if anything seems out of place or incorrect.  
> 5\. I was mostly high as fuck while writing this, so I have no idea if it makes any sense.  
> 6\. English isn’t my first language, grammatical errors probably occur.  
> 7\. Feel free to comment and leave kudos, constructive criticism is more than welcome! :)

**“Our Father, which art in heaven,**  
hallowed be thy name,  
thy kingdom come,  
thy will be done,  
in earth as it is in heaven.  
  
Give us this day our daily bread,  
and forgive us our trespasses,  
as we forgive them that trespass against us,  
lead us not into temptation,  
but deliver us from all evil.  
  
For thine is the kingdom,  
the power and the glory,  
for ever and ever.

Amen.” 

_Matthew 6:10_  
  


Pastor Michael retires from preaching at the Eden Baptist Church, located near the town Cambridge at the age of seventy-three, retreating to spend his last good years with near family. The community who has spent every second day attending the man’s services is left devastated and desperate, the dynamics of their everyday lives slowly falling apart. Months after, where the town is just about to hit rock bottom, they find that the answer to their prayers comes in form of a young man named Daniel Howell, who has just moved here two weeks ago with a fresh priest certificate. They need someone to keep them off the road of temptation and sin, need someone to validate the faith they’re sacrificing themselves for, and Dan knows better than _anyone_ in this town how to do that. He’s a gift from the above, a gem, really – kind and incredibly wise beyond his years. He knows the whole bible from a to z too, and that’s something special.

 

‘’Thank you for doing this, pastor,’’ One of the ladies from the town’s council starts out, leading Dan into the beautiful service room the church beholds. The warm rays of sunlight shining through a big mosaic window dances elegantly on the pastors tanned skin, bible clutched tightly in his right hand. Everything around him seems to possess a certain glow, shining in a way that leaves the woman _beaming_ in gratefulness for this young man. ‘’We’ve needed someone like you for quite some time now.’’ There’s relief and sheer hope written across her face, and Dan feels his heart swell with the praise.

 

‘’I’ll gladly help.’’ Dan seems like the perfect man of God, even though the town technically knows nothing about him. He doesn’t look like someone they shouldn’t trust – which they then blindly do. He wins them over with gentle, mahogany eyes and kind, small smiles. ‘’Especially if it’s in the name of Him,’’ He continues, _devoted_ in a way that the lady can only dream of. He moves to the altar, sliding his hand across the surface of it, in awe over the beauty of the church. She observes him from afar for a while, the young man in front of him being all their community could ever wish for.

 

‘’One last thing,’’ The woman says in a warning, shivering tone, the pleasant atmosphere that roams between them changing rather quickly. When Dan turns around to face her, she looks troubled. ‘’Keep away from Phil Lester.’’

 

As he leaves, Dan feels cleansed for the first time in forever, already overly in love with the promising town. He swoons in gratefulness, thanking the above for this opportunity, this new chance at His forgiveness. He’s stopped in his euphoric, joyful ways of thinking, as the sight of very bad news hits him. Dan stops at the corner to admire a stranger, who _ruins_ the scrapbook worthy picture of the street completely. ‘’You’re the new pastor,’’ The stranger states leaned comfortable against his motorcycle, one hand holding the helmet close, giving off a sly smirk with a set of white teeth in Dan’s direction. The man has amorality written all over him, and Dan instantly knows who he is. Despite the way shivers run down his spine at the sight of Phil, Dan decides his bond to Him is strong enough to endure it, to _overpower_ him.

 

‘’I’ve seen you give that sly smirk to at least five others,’’ Dan challengingly accuses with a raised brow, and Phil is pleasantly surprised by the holy man’s daring attitude. He usually finds that soldiers of God are all barks and no bites, but not this one. This one seems discreet, _mysterious_ , and Phil gets the feeling he’s hiding something - needless to say, Phil is unusually intrigued. ‘’You’re pure trouble, you know that?’’ Dan continues calmly, crossing his arms, a pair of dimples appearing as he shoots Phil a smile too kind and then Phil is absolutely _gone_. He eyes the younger man over with curious, cruel eyes, and Dan instantly feels like a sheep under the gaze of a lion.

 

‘’I know that.’’ He gets seated on the motorcycle, getting ready to leave way too early for his own liking – he needs to get away before the pastor rears his amusement, pushes him to a point where Phil’s skin isn’t able to contain it. ‘’But clearly, you don’t.’’ Phil runs an impure hand through dark, slick locks, and Dan starts to question whether he’s actually strong enough for this kind of test or not. ‘’Otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here,’’ Phil informs him, the stabbing words of what Phil seems to know is _truth_ making Dan bites his lips. ‘’Talking to me.’’ Dan is decently confident in his faith, even to a point where he allows a humored laugh at Phil’s comment to dance in the air between them.

 

‘’Love thy neighbor as thyself,’’ Dan quotes in order to defend himself, earning a glimpse of something dangerous in Phil’s eyes, before the man slips his helmet on and turns the key to the motorcycle. The tension between them breaks, as he leaves the pastor to battle between finding the whole situation mesmerizing or downright sickening.

 

 **‘’Therefore, beloved,**  
foreknowing these things,  
be on your guard,  
lest being also carried away  
by the deceit of the lawless,  
you fall from your own steadfastness.’’

_Peter 3:17_  
  


‘’You may now kiss the bride,’’ Dan finishes off, the affection swirling in the newlywed’s eyes reminding him exactly why he does this. As the groom places a soft kiss on the bride’s lips, he feels his heart ache with _want_ , solitude nearly strangling him. Dan believes that once in your life, just once, you will find a person who can completely turn your whole world around. To love someone is sharing sides of yourself, you earlier swore you would never show anyone, a beautiful, dangerous _madness_ – to love someone is baring the very depths of your soul, taking the risks that follows, when you show that special person all your little imperfections, defects and flaws, blindly trusting that they’ll stick around anyway. Love is vulnerability, certitude, yearning and tenderness, something the pair in front of him has, and something Dan isn’t _allowed_ to.

 

‘’Got a woman, Howell?’’ The local sheriff asks after the ceremony, looking like he’s had too many glasses of champagne, and Dan sighs deeply and thinks He’s really testing him today. Dan once met a girl, he thought he could fall for, met a girl, he thought he could love. She had been a true delight, never failing to make him smile, a gentle soul who had the stars captured in her eyes. She would do anything for him, without hesitations. For a while, things worked out great between them, and Dan was _almost_ convinced he could put a ring on her finger, that he could grow old with her, that he was _cured_.  She had been perfect, a gift to this earth, every man of God could see that - but she hadn’t been what he needed, what he _craved_ for. She wasn’t angry when he told her, left with a sad smile and hopes that Dan would persecute his dreams, something he couldn’t promise her he would do. He tiredly rubs his forehead, before shooting the sheriff an exhausted look.

 

‘’I’m devoted to Him.’’ It’s only part of the truth, but the sheriff still beams at the holy statement.

 

‘’What’s wrong with being gay, pastor?’’ The young flower girl asks Dan a while after the couple has finished their first dance, eyes bright with innocence, still unaffected by the _cruelty_ this world possesses. He sees an old reflection of himself in the unknowing irises, and wishes for the times where life was simple and kind. Her mother, standing a few feet away, shoots him a worried, uncomfortable glance, and Dan knows exactly what she wants him to say. Though _every_ single aspect of his being refuses, stomach tied in thousands of knots, palms sweaty and heart beating at a pace way to fast, he’s going to shatter her with judgemental words and old verses, spread an inhumane poison in her carefree heart. He watches the curiosity, the impeccable look grazing her youthful features, turn into disgust, turn into nausea, as he tells her what he’s _always_ been told himself.

 

‘’Everything.’’ The mother offers him a grateful smile, and Dan is glad this town doesn’t know his backstory.

 

‘’Rough day?’’ Phil asks outside the gas station which Dan stops by on his way home. He’s pretty sure it’s over three in the morning, and the whole town is significantly dead. Dan knows he should feel uncomfortable with the man’s unusual presence, but it just feels so good not to be bothered with questions, making him feel like the guilty being he has convinced himself he is. It’s been half a month since he met him the first time, but he recognizes the bizarre, _ungodly_ and knowing look in the teal colored eyes, not to mention his raspy, impious voice. The question doesn’t surprise him either, Dan full aware of the heavy bags under his mahogany orbs, the dull look grazing his exhausted features. Phil gets lost in the way Dan’s eyes twinkles with chaos, conflict and _torture_. It’s mesmerizing how the pastor lets himself dwell in a misery created by his own conscience, when the only thing stopping him from leaving the road of salvation and wreckage is outdated verses and pointless forgiveness.

 

‘’Yeah,’’ Dan admits, almost sure he shouldn’t. Something in the back of his mind tells him that Phil is going to break him if he keeps doing that, but something else tells him that’s okay. ‘’But I’ll manage, for He gives me strength.’’ Dan can conclude already now that carefully chosen words are going to be an always between them, each livid sentence trying to overpower the other, denying phrases ascending from a foreign language only the two of them speaks. There’s something incredibly luring about the challenging look dancing elegantly on the pale face, and Dan likes the paranoia and anger it makes him endure, likes the twisted way it keeps him aiming for remission and _redemption_.

 

‘’But the question is, pastor,’’ Phil starts and nears Dan, the air suddenly getting too thick for him to breathe, the tension erupting with each step Phil takes, clouding over his mind. The pastor takes a step back, hitting the wall of the gas station, feeling like a prey in the eyes of a predator. Phil is too close, and despite his stubborn courage Dan turns his cheek, unable to look at him without _condemning._ There’s a hot breath near his ear, and as he shuts his eyes tightly he knows he’s playing with a forbidden fire. ‘’Does He give you _enough_?’’ Dan doesn’t know the answer. He swallows, and then Phil retreats to disappear into the dark, quickly and suggestive. He sends Dan a tempting smile over his shoulder before leaving completely, and for a brief moment, Dan considers following - considers giving it all up, if it means Phil will make the solitude disappear, even if just for a few minutes. The only reason he doesn’t do so, is something sacred in the back of his mind telling him _don’t_.

  
  
**‘’Blessed is the man,**  
that endured temptation:  
for when he is tried  
he shall receive the crown of life,  
which the Lord had promised  
to them that love him.’’

_James 1:12_  
  


‘’Don’t get close to that Lester guy,’’ One of the ladies from church warns Dan one day after one of his services, the poor woman’s face crumbling in despair by the mere mention of Phil’s name. Dan knows that look a tad too well, almost finding it strange not having it directed at himself. He had asked about him, because his name constantly grazes the town’s gossip, hauntingly popping up in their judgmental chitchat about current scandals. He had asked about him, because he lately finds it hard to keep those knowing, blue eyes out of his mind, repeatedly _begging_ him to commit to sin. ‘’He’s a sinner, pastor,’’ The woman states, adjusting the lavender colored scarf hanging around her neck. He wonders if she would look the same way talking about him, if she knew that Dan is one too. Luckily she doesn’t – the caring undertones in her warnings making his rapid heartbeats slow down a little. ‘’Might as well be the devil himself,’’ She mutters, closing off the rant as she’s about to leave, valuating eyes making Dan’s polished façade crumble underneath her thoughtful gaze. Before leaving that day, he says a prayer in front of the altar, though knowing nothing is ever going to make him feel _clean_ , if the thought of Phil Lester doesn’t repulse him.

 

‘’Is it true, what they say about you?’’ He asks, when he finds Phil leaning comfortably against the stonewall framing the church’s cemetery afterwards, a tempting smile lightening up the handsome, pale face. There’s a cigarette hanging between his lips, and even though Dan always has been a straightedge, the sight only contributes to his unhealthy affection for the elder. The rather joyful aura Phil seems to have is almost making Dan believe he’s been _awaiting_ him. He hasn’t even been there for ten seconds, before Phil’s presence makes him _hunger_. He doesn’t exactly know for what yet, but something tells him Phil undoubtedly has the answer. Dan knows his thirst increases every time the amount of their meetings do, yet he stands impatiently in front of his tormenter once again, curiosity unbearable. It’s stupid. Dangerous. _Sinful_. He doesn’t like this mind game they seem to be playing lately, always making the air too thick for him to breathe, the tension between them making his skin _crawl_.

 

‘’Depends,’’ The fallen one answers, blue eyes seeing right through the web of lies that keeps Dan secure at night, kept away from the reality he refuses to face. He takes a drag from the cigarette, smoke dancing an elegant dance in the air between them as he slowly breathes out. ‘’What do they say, _pastor_?’’ Phil likes the look on Dan’s face as he draws out the last word with a pointy tongue, letting the younger one know that the clerical collar and bible doesn’t fool him one bit. It amazes him how the town hasn’t found out yet, guilty mahogany eyes giving it all away. The look grazing the younger one’s beautiful, soft features is one of sheer _fear_ , but underneath the horror of being found out, there’s a deep, _dangerous_ appetence lurking.

 

‘’Bad things,’’ Dan informs, watching the sun go down behind Phil. ‘’Really, _really_ bad things.’’

 

‘’Oh, I bet they do,‘’ Phil nearly purrs, throwing the rest of the cigarette to the ground, crushing it like he crushes Dan underneath the sole of a shoe. He pushes himself away from the cold stonewall, shuffles closer to him, the scent of his discomfort and eagerness making him bite his lips. ‘’I have a question for you too, little one.’’ The pastor lets him invade his personal space, doesn’t even flinch as a long, thin finger find its way underneath his chin, tilting his head upwards ‘’Do you believe them?’’ The blue eyes staring into his own brown ones possesses traces of a world, Dan only knows very little of – a world that’s tempting, sensual and _wrong_. He doesn’t know why Phil asks, when it feels like he reads all the dirty _, filthy_ secrets his troubled mind beholds like an open map. The deep chuckle that vibrates through the air when Dan shakes his head, makes goosebumps dance elegantly down the sides of his slim arms. Phil catches the pastor shivering in sheer anticipation, finding it almost _unbearable_ not to jump on him right there. The only thing that keeps the unholy one from doing so, is the thought of him kneeling before him willingly. ‘’ _Liar_ ,’’ Phil accuses with a fire of mesmerizing madness flicking in his eyes, a big grin spreading across his inviting lips.

 

With that Dan snaps out of it, remembering he shouldn’t be here, talking to Phil. He hadn’t realized how close they’re standing, Phil’s warm breath falling over him in relaxed puffs. He welcomes the familiar feeling of being _sick_ to his guts with open arms, the guilt and shame also. It no longer saddens him, that this state of mind is what he now calls _home_. Dan takes a step back, watching the slight disappointment spread in the other’s eyes. ‘’You should attend one of my services sometime, Phil,’’ He states unaffected as he starts to walk down the road leading to his apartment, casting a look over his shoulder before leaving the unholy one. ‘’God forgives.’’

 

 **‘’And the prayer of faith shall save the sick,**  
and the Lord shall raise him up,  
and if he has committed sins,  
they shall be forgiven him.’’

 

 _James 5:15_  
  


He finds out about the passing of his old pastor on a rainy Sunday. He sits in the same position for what feels like hours afterwards, fingers clutched tightly around his telephone, adrenaline and _fear_ pumping through his veins at full speed. He feels like he’s seventeen all over again, and just got caught kissing the neighbor’s son in their backyard. She doesn’t sound upset when he picks up, his mother - he senses a bit of shame in her voice however, and whether it’s because she hasn’t called her own son in eight years, or because the sinful memories of him once again is brought to the surface, Dan can’t quite decide. He tells her about the church, and she pretends to be _proud_. She tells him about the pastor, and he pretends to be _pure_. The funeral is to be held at Thursday, but Dan can already feel the judging and knowing eyes of his hometown, as he dares to set a foot on the holy ground that _repelled_ him.

 

Dan’s whole world shatters to a million pieces within few minutes, the protective shield of lies he had built around him over the years crumbling and vanishing. Right now, he’s the same confused, sad and _angry_ kid he was eight years ago - right now, he realizes that nothing has changed since then. He moves to the bathroom on shaky limbs, weak knees threatening to give out on him. Dan feels as if every good, positive thing inside of him has been drained, and left is the _rotten_ shell of the holy man he once could become. He turns on the shower, needing to wash away the filthy feeling that claws at his skin. He had been a good man, the pastor - feeding the homeless at the local shelter every weekend, making sure the people of the strict community all had they needed. He was always there with encouraging words and verses, a caring, good-hearted person. Unless you dreamed of the embrace of strong, firm muscles and deep, raspy voices.

 

He scrubs his body until his skin is bruising, the nearly boiling water contributing to the soreness spreading across his skin, which is by now covered with a pinkish tint.

 

He remembers the day he got kicked out like it was just yesterday. His dad had been furious when Dan refused to attend the conversion therapy the pastor had fixed for him. The minute words got out that their beloved Dan was one of _them_ , all sympathy and love they once held for the boy vanished into thin air, as if it never had been there. He remembers standing at the subway, waiting for the first and best midnight train to take him away from that shithole. The ugly grasp of solitude hasn’t left him yet – the gentle, but imprisoning claws still buried deep in his mind. If Dan hadn’t been so stubborn, so blinded by the sickness he had let corrupt him for so long, maybe he wouldn’t have ended up here today – wrecked and _ruined_. After the bath, he needs the sound of leaves, rustling in the trees and dancing in the air. He needs it to soothe the dull ache in his heart, needs it to make him forget, make him _regret_. He feels predatory eyes eating him whole as soon as he’s out the door, subconsciously accepting the role of a pray. He sees him lurking in the shadows, eyes dark and face pale. The moment their gazes cross each other’s path, Dan knows Phil has something to do with the death of his old pastor - he sees it in the storm raging inside the unholy one, the look of slightly annoyed defeat obvious.

 

‘’You know where I live,’’ Dan states, though there’s no traces of shock neither in mind or speech. He stays underneath the dim, yellow light of an old lamppost, the _licentious_ disappointment vibrating of the other one keeping Dan a few needed feet away from him. He tries to deny the sparks in his stomach any access, tries to convince himself he’s disgusted and _not_ intrigued. Phil can hear Dan’s mind swirling with thoughts, once again a battlefield for the ongoing war between good and bad – bombs of doubt leaving him out of breath. Phil aggressively pities him with stern eyes and clenched fists. He sympathizes – something he hasn’t done in a very long time.

 

‘’I know a lot of things about you,’’ Phil admits in a husky voice, impatiently amused over the fact that Dan doesn’t _bend_. ‘’Even things you don’t know yourself.’’

 

 ‘’You’re used to people like me dropping at your knees, aren’t you?’’ Dan asks daringly, watching the blue veins in Phil’s neck become visible as the sinner tenses every muscle in his body. The pastor knows he’s playing with fire, knows Phil only possesses so much willpower, but the anger and fear inside of him tells him to keep going, tells him to keep pushing. Phil finds it frustratingly _astonishing,_ watching the younger one shatter and rebuild himself with each word he’s speaking. ‘’You’re just a _temptation_ ,’’ Dan harshly accuses, the lie tasting bitter in his mouth. ‘’I won’t let you win.’’ The silence afterwards gives him goosebumps, makes him question whether his tantrum was to prove Phil wrong, or to comfort and indoctrinate his own unstable self.

 

‘’Why do you let Him do this to you?’’ Comes the question minutes later, the tension between them easing into the usual mysterious one, the fight left in Dan slowly wearing off. Phil wonders how the beautiful mortal can be so naive, so stupidly _faithful._ He remembers being the same once, centuries ago – remembers not wanting to take a step unless it was in the name of _Him_ , remembers putting every gratifying, pleasurable thing aside for the sugarcoated tails of paradise.

 

‘’I’m paying my price, Phil - So should you.’’

 

‘’ **For I know that in me,**  
dwelleth no good thing,  
for to will is present with me,  
but how to perform that which is good,  
I find not.’’

_Romans 7:18_  
  


He had thought everything would be changed, but the dull town looks just the way it used to – the same houses, the same trees, the same people and the same _memories_. His mother greets him outside the cemetery with a loose handshake, acting as if Dan carries some kind of _disease_ as he moves to hug her. He doesn’t know the woman in front of him. They’re strangers.

 

As the coffin gets lowered into the ground, shovelful after shovelful of dirt burying Dan’s old pastor forever, he realizes something tragically beautiful, yet incredibly _erroneous_. He realizes that he doesn’t budge under the prying eyes of what he once dared to call family, though they with fastidious glares tries to remind him of his place, tries to remind him of the past. Though he tries to think of it as unwillingly, he can’t deny the fact that Phil has planted a seed of independence inside him, a flower blooming with free will, every time he breathes in. He can feel Phil’s presence, as the idea that he has the dominance over his own life slowly fills him to the brim – he can feel Phil’s presence, haunting him with forbidden ideas and proscribed thoughts. He watches the mistakes he made when he was seventeen disappear, a flickering fire that finally dies out, as the last shovelful of dirt covers the coffin. He allows it to consume him, to raise his head from the ground and meet the judging looks with a lifted chin –  allows it to ease the heavy guilt seated in his stomach, which had been there ever since he left this place.

 

He opens his eyes.

 

One woman, who he briefly remembers being the mother of one of his old classmates, is dressed in all black with a matching eye. The boyfriend of said woman is standing next to her, nose red and eyes bloodshot, a spicy scent of whiskey hanging in the air surrounding him. His old neighbor is there with her kids, all ascending from three different men out of wedlock.  The man owning the local supermarket, who likes his girls just a little too young, a girl Dan used to play with, who he remembers stealing from said man – they’re all there, shunning his existence while drowning in their own hypocrisy. He doesn’t join in on the psalm being sung afterwards, the words tasting _foreign_ and unwelcome in his dry mouth.

  
  
‘’Fuckin’ fag,’’ A man he doesn’t remember grumbles as he’s about to leave the cemetery.

  
  
He closes his eyes.

 

 **‘’Verily I say unto you,**  
all sins shall be forgiven  
unto the sons of men and blasphemies,  
however they shall blaspheme -  
but he that shall blaspheme  
against the Holy Ghost  
hath never forgiveness,  
but is in danger of eternal damnation.’’

_Mark 3:28-29_  
  


 ‘’What did God ever do for you?’’ The fallen asks temptingly while leaning against the church’s doorframe at home a while later, dangerously close to such holy ground. He already feels his skin crawl with resentment, his human form barely containing the sinful creature purring in the back of his mind, muscles tensing with anticipation as his ungodliness and immorality shows its ugly face. ‘’Where was He, when you were _betrayed_ by your own blood?’’ There’s hurt and anger dancing violently in Dan’s mahogany eyes now, Phil’s careful chosen words making him remember the _traitorous_ and disloyal memories clearly once again. The flames of misapplication burn desperately for _revenge_ in the preacher’s warm orbs, flickering mightily like those of the hell Phil dares to call home. Phil knows by now that no creature, whether it’ll be mankind or immortals, will ever be able to quench those exact fires. ‘’Where was He, when you were doomed to roam this world in solitude?’’ Phil slowly leans in, the church welcoming his blue, _impure_ eyes by silently commanding him to confess and indulge to judgement. Dan takes a step back, the breathtaking sinner in front of him creating a war in his crumbling mind. ‘’You’re far too..’’ Phil takes a moment to search for a fitting word, the human in front of him _indescribable_. He thinks he could live in this world for yet another eternity, words still never being quite enough to frame this mortal in front of him. ‘’Inestimable for that.’’

 

Dan isn’t yet rebelling against his lord and savior, even though he is suffering from _temptations_. He observes Phil as the devouring eyes darts to the cross hanging around his slender neck, a tint of disappointment and disgust reminding Dan of who exactly he serves, who he spent years trying to regain _forgiveness_ from, who he dedicates every living and breathing moment to. ‘’Confess, and you too will be forgiven,’’ The preacher says daringly, _playful_ even, while possessing some of the knowledge regarding just how sinful the now smirking man is. It shouldn’t make an excited pit pool in his stomach, seeing how Phil easily fights the urge to submit to holiness. ‘’I find safety and acceptance being a man of..’’ Seeing how Dan tastes the word with a pointy tongue, the thought of Phil’s words being true haunting his _cleansed_ soul, almost makes Phil enter the sacred building completely. ‘’ _God_.’’

 

Phil chuckles a bit, the sound raspy, rough and _delicate_. The determination of Dan’s proclaimed devotion makes his clawing fingers ache, desperate to caress his free will with lustful fingertips. As Phil continues to look into Dan’s soul, slowly but securely learning what keeps the young one up at night, pondering his shame and committing to sinful thoughts, he craves for something way more intense than forcing his _corruption_ on him. He wants to shatter the preacher’s existence, wants to see him wrecked as he too realizes the _unkindness_ of the invisible empire above them, have him kneel freely beside him. ‘’What if He isn’t real, Dan?’’ He’s playing with fire, chasing Dan into unknown territory. There’s a glimpse of thoughtfulness dominating Dan’s features as he thinks for a few moments, only briefly before dooming Phil’s question to _oblivion._ ‘’Just a pigment of your imagination,’’ The fallen one continues with pushing mannerisms.

 

‘’Then you too would be only a pigment of my imagination, wouldn’t you?’’ Dan fires back, once again taking a step backwards, luring Phil past the doorway. He looks beautiful like this, pale skin lit up by the church’s _repulsion_ , glowing with hatred for everything the building represents. Dan tightens his grip around his bible a little, though knowing the pages with _nonsense_ written all over will do him no good anymore, the promise of protection long gone. ‘’God is your creator, trespasser’ He states while getting lost to the sensation of shivers going down his spine, making Phil realize Dan might know more about him than he originally thought. There’s a few seconds where the atmosphere almost paralyzes the both of them, tension thick and _strangling_. Dan slowly nears the door leading to the service room, fingers dancing an elegant dance with the door handle. ‘’Bow before Him, or live for all eternity as a prisoner to misery.’’ Dan speaks with a hidden sadness coating his voice, the said misery still paying personal visits as the night arrives and all his monsters comes out to play. Phil watches _mesmerized_ , knowing there’ll be no chance of holding back once Dan opens that door, all traits of self-control disappearing from his personality’s traits.

 

 ‘’I have no such relationship with Him as you so filthily speak of, little one,’’ He defends in a hoarse yet incredibly gentle and almost soft voice, letting his cells burn painfully with _salvation_. He disposes of his leather jacket, dropping it silently on the floor. He’s starting to lose a bit of patience, Dan still not opening his eyes and accepting the horrifying truth. ‘’I am the master, creator and lord of myself,’’ He commits, each denying word making Dan turn the door handle a little. There’s something grazing Dan’s eyes throughout the intense moment, something very dangerous and _almost_ lustful. ‘’I will never confess or commit to what He define as sin..’’ Phil continues, tilting his head in something that very easily can be described as pleasure, undoing the buttons of his worn-out shirt. Dan turns the handle completely, pushing the door open in a speed way too slow. The moment the fallen one is met with the sight of the holy child crucified in silver in the middle of the room, his blue orbs turns as black as the coal he ascents from, the tragic memories of the portrayed human now awoken. The child of God was supposed to be a symbol for the new world consisting of peace, but ended out symbolizing Him living in fear too of what He has created. ‘’Just as I will never serve or bow to a _coward_ like Him.’’

 

Dan feels his knees go weak at Phil’s words as they enter the service room, never once turning his back to him, not quite wanting to let go of His forgiveness just yet. Dan had pretended for so long to be part of the holy realm, that he was actually starting to believe in the imaginative acceptance himself. He can’t understand the reality coming crashing down upon him now, can’t let the hope of _salvation_ escape him. Phil’s torso is bare, the dim light coming through the mosaic window exposes artworks of ink in his skin, immortal drawings proving his earlier _devotement_ to the same mentality. Dan bites his lips at the sight, eyes running over the patches of firm muscle the fallen one’s slender, human form beholds. He loosens his clerical collar with slow, yet determined hands, making an impure show for both the demon’s and _His_ enjoyment. Phil just watches, fingertips working on undoing his now tight trousers. Dan lets the collar drop to the ground, the sound of _misdeed_ shortly filling the room making them both breathless.

 

‘’Make me sin,’’ Dan begs. He doesn’t have to do so more than once.

 

The first kiss is harsh, sloppy and absolutely wonderful, a battle of tongues fighting for dominance, sharp teeth clamping down on plumb lips. Dan closes his eyes partly in agony and bliss, something snapping inside of him, forever broken - hands gripping hard and aggressively at the black strands of Phil’s soft hair. He tastes faintly like cigarette smoke and _freedom_ , and Dan imagines this is exactly what Eve must’ve felt, taking a bite from the forbidden fruit. They break apart for air, and within seconds the rough pair of lips are attacking his neck, leaving angry, purple marks so high no shirt will be able to hide them, leaving marks so high Dan will be forced to remember what Phil’s doing to him right in this moment for days afterwards. Phil can’t stop now, even if he desperately wanted too – he’s way too caught up in the way Dan’s groans echoes through the church, way too caught up in the way his mahogany eyes lights up with sheer vitality.

 

Dan undresses the beautiful immortal in front of him completely, peels the rest of his clothing of with hands shaky and nervous, the years of suppressing this unapologetic, animalistic side of himself letting his inexperienced purity step into the light – Phil doesn’t mind, he’ll teach him exactly what he’s been missing out on, show him with skilled, rough fingertips, just how _good_ giving in to sin feels. Even before he returns the favor, ripping at the clothes carnivorously, impatient hands tearing the fabric apart, Dan feels throughout naked and willingly stripped down to the very core of his soul. The sight of Phil’s bared, glowing body send shivers down his spine, makes his breath hitch in his throat – the fact that he’s the reason for the growing hardness between Phil’s legs swells his heart with both erotic pride and honor. The usual guilt, threatening to spread throughout his body, dies out as Phil leads Dan’s trembling hands down to his throbbing member, slightly tilting his head back as slim, warm fingers wraps around it.

 

‘’Look at what you’re doing to me,’’ Phil huskily breathes out as the pastor starts gently pumping him, and as Dan looks into his lust driven eyes, the reflection of himself in darkened irises _scares_ him just the right way.

 

Phil soon grows impatient, removing the hand and grabbing Dan by the hips, lifting him up as if he’s as light as a feather, seating him unto the altar, where Dan just a few days ago performed a baptism in the name of _Him_. He spreads his creamy, tanned legs for Phil completely shamelessly, wraps them around the sinner’s hips and draws him in, the two of them fitting against each other like a completed puzzle. Long, dry and thin fingers find their way between their conjoined bodies, delicious pain spreading up Dan’s spine as two of them sinks into him, leaving him panting and _desperate_. His nails claw lasciviously at Phil’s naked back, leaving deep, red marks as the unholy stretches him, forces him into divine submission, forces him into letting the oppressed fantasies in the back of his mind come alive. Phil hits the bundle of nerves his precise fingertips had been searching for, making Dan cry out and rut against the fingers, hips swaying gracefully at the movement, the pastor wanting more of the electrifying sparks the ungodly touch offers. He feels significant under the wild, hungry gaze of Phil, feels as if he’s the most _valuable_ thing in this world. Phil takes in the look on Dan’s face as he sinks in the third finger, takes in the way the younger knits his eyebrows tightly together, lips parted in a silent gasp. He knows he’ll search for something even half as astonishing for _centuries_ afterwards, the sight of Dan abandoning everything he knows too precious for his impure eyes.

 

‘’More,’’ Dan commands. Phil is more than happy to obey.

 

Then there’s hands on Dan’s thighs, pleasure and pain colliding as he’s slowly penetrated, Phil taking his time to let him adjust, a fire spreading the places their skin touches. Phil’s grip is hard, and Dan knows he’ll look in the mirror tomorrow and find delicate fingerprints, still feel them and Phil long after the marks have vanished. Dan feels as if he might break, and as Phil slides in deeper, he _does_. The pastor uses his legs to impatiently draw him closer, arching his back as he’s completely filled - the burning, velvet walls of his insides clenching tightly around Phil. There’s a silence before the storm, but then something snaps inside of Phil and they _fuck_ , the filthy sound of skin against skin echoing off the churches walls, a forbidden, favorite melody of Phil’s. Dan doesn’t understand how something so beautiful, so intensely _debauched_ can be wrong – how the way their bodies melt together, as if they’ve always been one, Phil pounding brutally into the heat his divine body provides, can easily be defined as sheer sin.

 

Phil _shatters_ him in the most ravishing way, destroys all the self-loathing and hurt with snapping hips and angry kisses, then picks all the broken pieces of his persona and stitches them back together again. His mind is numb, the usual chaos gone and replaced with a combination of endorphins, lust and _sin_. At some point tears forms in the corners of his eyes, the sensation too overwhelming, too good. Phil wipes them away with a gentle thumb and sharp thrusts, hitting the bundle of nerves that now has Dan seeing _stars_ with every movement he makes. They’re _animals_ , following the deepest depths of their greedy instincts.

 

Dan’s skin is on fire, every atom and cell inside of him _exploding_ in pure ecstasy as his toe-curling climax approaches. Phil watches him become undone, takes in the raw sight of Dan being _reborn_. The pastor comes untouched, the white substance splattering across his stomach, some of it landing on the altar he’s seated on. The sound of Phil’s name being moaned out in symphonies of broken cries, a _devastatingly_ gorgeous melody, makes him stutter his hips and bury his teeth deeply in the soft skin in the crook of Dan’s neck, the wrecked pair riding out their high together in a tight embrace, not quite wanting the beautiful thing going on between them to end.

 

‘’Thank you,’’ Dan whispers. ‘’Thank you for saving me.’’

  
***  
  **“Is man merely a mistake of God's? Or God merely a mistake of man?”**  
_\- Friedrich Nietzsche_

 


End file.
